“Hello Misery.” He said, opening his arms towards her and offering the empty space at the small table. On it were two small glasses filled with the familiar intoxicating drink. Misery nodded her head ever so slightly and tried to match his smile but knew that she couldn’t ever hope to match his effortless, almost insidious subtle grin. 

“It’s been a minute.” She said back, taking her seat at the table eyeing the glass before grasping it with her hands. Yet, she held back taking a drink and instead played with it, swirling the liquid around. 

“It certainly has Misery, was beginning to worry that you had forgotten me!” He put on a feigned whisper of worry. “So I was delighted at your request and told my retainers that everything must wait, Misery was at the door!” He threw his hands in the air as if welcoming an old family member. 

The Pointed Devil was everything like she remembered though it had been a little over a year since she had seen the Vulpine. Even with all the craziness of the last few months, the rumblings of war to the east, the quakes that have been hitting the island, the elections within Onamen City itself, the Pointed Devil was as perched as he always was. He sat there, leaning back and relaxed in his seat but Misery knew that the last thing on his mind was relaxation. He was certainly reading her with those keen, awful yellow eyes. Taking in every bit of his surroundings through years of experience in surveillance and an innate knack for reading others. His pupils were the only give away, their imperceptible movement dancing around catching every subtle movement she made. Though Misery had known the Pointed Devil for longer than most anyone she never got too close, most of the time it led to bad endings for those who tried. She tightened her grip on the drink and leaned back to mirror his relaxed state. 

“Oh no one can forget the mighty Pointed Devil.” She smirked. “Though I’m sure that there are those who want to.” 

“Many many have.” He said, impressing on the word many. “I don’t consider myself too memorable, bad for business.” He laughed and Misery raised an eyebrow and let herself lose a small chuckle. 

“You? Not memorable? Have you looked at yourself lately? Fur styled to a point, shirt and vest that would cut if you looked at them wrong, a cane, and a tall cap? I’d dare to say you make it hard to not remember you.” 

The Pointed Devil never dropped his sly, impish smile while he let his eyes fall to his own clothes. They matched her description. His fur, immaculately groomed with each point seemingly molded, while a stark white long sleeved shirt hid under a flaming cardinal vest and jet black necktie. 

“You think that’s me do you? Tsk tsk, I thought you knew me better than that?” He drew another sip of the musky alcohol. 

“I mean you’ve been wearing that git-up since I’ve known you so I’d say pretty certainly, yeah it’s you.” 

“Misery Misery Misery, have you not learned? That was the first thing I taught you, it’s right in your name!” He let his grin drop and shook his head in feigned worry.

“There you go again speaking in your riddles as if everyone gets you. Take a step off your personal pedestal and talk like a normal person, I don't care if you Vulpines have those fancy tongues.” 

The Pointed Devil narrowed his yellow eyes and leaned forward over the wooden table, his voice dimmed to a whisper. 

“See I know Misery. A young daughter of the Imperos nobility. Runaway from the imperial majesty. Learned in the arts of politics and speech from the most prestigious school within the empire itself.” He paused and let Misery process his words. She blinked a few times before shaking her head and squeezing the glass tightly. 

“Ok and…” she offered. The Pointed Devil lazily sat back in the chair while she, with great effort, worked to suppress the growing nervousness within her.

“Who am I?” He asked her. The words left his pointed teeth as if they were smoke, clouding up his visage. Misery opened her mouth to speak but anything she could think of was what she saw before her. The Pointed Devil, an immaculately dressed Vulpine who took residence within Onamen City’s underground. The Pointed Devil, owner of the Devil’s Playground Game Parlor where even the most shrewd gamblers and politicians find ways to part with their hard earned money and information. The Pointed Devil, a devilishly intelligent dangerous Vulpine with the physical attributes of a ghost. She knew nothing about him, not where he came from, nothing from what he had been, nothing of what he had done, nothing of what made the Pointed Devil, him. 

Misery kept her mouth open for all but a second before closing it and reverting her expression to one of knowing but she knew she had slipped up. He was right, she didn’t know him. Her big mistake was in giving that away. He took another sip of his drink. 

“See, it’s all about impressions. My life is an impression. I’m a fog, a smoke that follows you at a campfire. You can look all you want into that fire to see where it comes from but the smoke stings your eyes forcing you to look away and miss something important.” 

Misery felt the glass growing tighter in her hand and exhaled some breaths to give her some time. Yet while her outward appearance struggled to show calmness her brain raced with questions. How the hell did he know her real name, a name that she had left back in Imperos. A name she had killed long ago. The Pointed Devil was truly that, he knew how to find those points and pry them open. Yet if there was anything that she had learned from him, it was that no one truly kills themselves; no one is able to disappear so completely. Her eyes darted all around the illustrious private room on the top floor of the Devil's Playground, filled to the brim with priceless art and other expensive shit she didn’t care about. Everything pointed to his career as the one and only Pointed Devil. But then she centered on him again. He sat there with his smirk, one paw on the table and the other in his right pocket he cocked his head to the right and drummed his fingers. Was he…relaxed? Did he think that he had won the small exchange and lowered his smoke screen? Then Misery got the start of an idea and she felt a smile creep across her face. 

“Ok Mr. Devil, then who are you?” 

The Pointed Devil paused for a moment, an ever so slight moment but his grin never faded. Instead he rolled his tongue over those sharp teeth and leaned forward to set the glass down. 

“A very very good question Misery. I’ll tell the truth, I am-” he smirked, “me!” But in that jest the idea that Misery had started with rolled over in her brain and she caught something. Here was a powerful Vulpine, known throughout the islands. But she never heard him mention anything about one thing. 

“You’re…” she started letting the words ooze out of her mouth with a malicious grin. “magicless aren’t you.” Then it happened. More than a flash but less than a second. As bright as the sun to only the most keen of observers and Misery was second only to the individual sitting across from her in observation. He flinched. Not in the regular sense of the word, more in that he didn’t know what to say. The Pointed Devil, master of all, was at a loss. Before she could press her advantage though the Vulpine righted his ship. 

“Many Vulpines are magicless just like you Esurians.” He said, gesturing to her. “Go up to any Vulpine in the street and I guarantee he’ll be just as magicless as I.” 

“But to a culture that reveres it as much as yours? I get the feeling that the Pointed Devil wasn’t always so…pointed.” 

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“Nochete!” The voice called while he burrowed himself into the wooden seat. His eyes rose slightly to see a Vulpine standing in the doorway, his plain robes standing out from the baroque styling of the small but grand secretary room they had him sitting in. The Mage stood, overlooking the room, there were a few others that filled out the room each with a parent or guardian watching over them.

“Nochete?” The voice called again. Nochete squeezed up against his father and held his breath in a childlike attempt to shrink in size compared to his father Jomne.

“Nochete, they’re calling you.” The larger Vulpine said. His voice was stern but eyes gave away the gentleness within him. 

“I don’t want to get tested.” Nochete squeaked. “They’ll just say I’m useless.” He curled further up and dug into his father. 

“Who told you that?” 

“I’m not dumb Dad, all Vulpines who can’t cast are treated…” he looked to the floor “differently.” 

“And who says you can’t cast?” His father responded, the voice as warm as he could muster. To that Nochete met his gaze and then quickly looked away. Jomne didn’t need to ask further, by the age of seven most Vulpines would have shown an affinity for Casting if they were able to. It could show in a multitude of ways, from distinct white streaks in the air when moving their hands to various odd happenings around them. None of these had happened to Nochete, in fact he had figured it out long ago. When he was five Nochete had made his way off with a Tome and practiced the beginner steps relentlessly in an effort to master one. Yet no matter how hard he tried, no matter how perfect he had gotten the steps there was nothing. No feeling of the magical energy, no power filling him, no streaks in the air, just emptiness. 

“Well, I’m sure there are some late bloomers out there.” Jomne said, standing up and holding his large furred hand out for Nochete. Though the small Vulpine didn’t move. 

“Can’t we just go away. I don’t need to be tested, I already know.” 

“It won’t take but a moment and maybe you’ll be surprised!” Nochete, unable to dig into his fathers side anymore, grabbed his tail and wrung it like one would a wet cloth. 

“Surprised?” He asked. 

“Surprised!” Jomne said. “You never know what may happen. These are masters after all.” A few moments passed and another call of his name left Nochete knowing that there was no getting out of it. But he had to look on the potential side of things right? What if he was wrong, what if there was a surprise in store? He rose to his feet still clutching his tail and Jomne escorted young Nochete towards the Mage who had been calling. 

“Heavens, why must you make us wait? When called please come at once.” He said it more for those who were still waiting for their names. Nochete, even more ashamed at this, focused on the marbled flooring and let Jomne give a courteous nod. 

“Thank you for your patience.” He said but the Mage huffed and gestured with one hand. The father and son followed him down the hall they had originally come from. Even though it was an auxiliary to the main central hall of Audimour, it dripped with grandeur. Vaulted ceilings rose above them adorned with designs of artists' depictions of the Tree of Magic. Portrait art adorned the walls but seeing as this was the auxiliary hall whomever they were, they were not important enough to be shown in the central rotunda of the Hall. The Mage brought them to a door and opened it for them before standing back. 

“Through here.”

Nochete and Jomne entered and he shut it behind them, the loud crack of the door slamming echoed through the room and Nochete just about jumped out of his fur. But once he felt his fur and tail settle down he looked around to see six eyes all glaring down at him. Three Mages sat at a table, their focus entirely on him, they were waiting just for him. Just for Nochete. 

Out of the three, the one to the right was definitely the oldest. The middle one was most likely middle aged and finally the leftmost one relatively young, Nochete took him to be in his late teens or so. The older one’s clothing was illustrious, embroidered with only the most beautiful and complex designs mimicking the designs that adorned the ceilings of the Hall. While the others wore solid colored cloaks, austere in presentation. Their entire bodies were hidden under the cloaks with their heads floating above. The older one cleared his throat and stole a quick glance at some records that were on the table before him. 

“Happy seventh birthday month Nochete. My name is Vontosei and this is Lurun and his Apprentice Tegorei.” The older one said, slightly butchering his name. Nochete clung closer to his father who gently pushed on his back to get him to approach the middle of the room. The three sat there and waited for a moment expecting an answer from the young Vulpine but when none came Vontosei cleared his throat. 

“Well, I’m sure you know why you’re here! In the grand tradition and to honor Progenitor Adium we seek out any and all who may show aptitude for the art of Release.” He spoke proudly, as if he were Adium himself but Nochete saw through the veil of mysticism. He still stood there quietly, brain racing. The question of if he was wrong still nagged at him. Might he actually be surprised? There’s a chance…probably. Dad had even promised. 

“And in that tradition we test all young Vulpines upon the age of seven to see if they hold any skill.” He finished.

“Any skill in Releases.” Nochete added. 

“Oh he does talk! Was beginning to worry.” The middle one said but Nochete was not amused but kept his muzzle shut and continued to hold onto his tail. 

“Sir, we’ve got five more to get through, please let's hurry.” The apprentice said and Nochete could have sworn he was out of breath. This did not instill any more confidence in the young Vulpine but he stood still as the Mage’s watched over him. 

“Yes yes I know Tegorei. Ok, young one, are you familiar with any Releases?” The older one asked. Nochete just about nodded but stopped himself, if he said yes they may make whatever the test is harder. So instead he shook his head. “Right. Please come forward and take this ring then put it on your index finger.” Vontosei gestured towards a ring that sat in the middle of the table before them. With a small step Nochete moved up to the table and reached out to pick up the small piece of metal. Once he got it, he retreated back to Jomne and inspected it but it looked like a normal ring to him albeit incredibly tarnished and pitted. Nochete looked back to his father. 

“Go on, it's ok.” Jomne encouraged. 

He fiddled with it a bit but then put on the ring and felt it around his finger. It was much too big for him, much too big for any seven year old Vulpine he thought. But the necessity of it needing to be used for everyone probably meant that it was easier for it to be too large rather than too small. The Master continued.

“Ok, now I want you to close your eyes, close them as tight as you can. Tightly enough to start seeing colors dance around the blackness. Then focus on those colors. Drop into them. As you do, hold out your finger like this.” He held out a bony finger as if he were pointing at something. “And repeat after me. Got it?” Nochete nodded, slightly off put by this presentation but the older Mage continued in his calm voice. “Good. Let's begin.” 

Nochete closed his eyes, squeezing them tighter than he ever had before and he desperately gazed into the darkness looking for colors. There were bright spots, probably where light was getting through his closed eyelids but he didn’t see any colors. He squeezed tighter and focused his eyes like he was looking at something far in the distance. What were these colors he talked about? He had never seen colors when his eyes were closed, how would this be different? Then, the Apprentice started to chant. The words were either an old language long forgotten or gibberish, either way Nochete felt incredibly silly attempting to copy the Mage. Yet as he focused on trying to say the words and as he felt more comfortable with them a new sensation started. As he stared into the darkness and as his mouth droned the words the feeling of soaring through that darkness filled him. Like he was flying through it and then colors! Oh the colors filled his vision and started to dance around in the darkness! They were not clear, more like hints of actual colors but he saw them dancing, merging and intermingling with one another. A smile crept on the side of his muzzle, was this Magic? It had to be! He was so taken back by it that he had almost forgotten to extend his ringed finger but once he did the most peculiar thing happened.

His hand started to move. Nochete wasn’t moving it nor was he telling it to move, it just was. A force had taken over and his hand made short, extremely deliberate motions in the air. Then Nochete knew what was going on. They were trying to get him to perform a Release! Gathering magic through a meditative chant and then letting the magic go through a rune drawn in the air. Yet due to him not knowing or being able to perform the intricate and detailed movements required they have someone wear a ring that they can control through their own spell. Nochete didn’t know his Releases well at all, he knew about the Tree of Magic and it’s three branches but anything beyond the super basics and what he had attempted when he was five he didn’t know. Once his hand stopped moving and the force left he opened his eyes and excitedly looked around to see what sort of Release he had cast. The feeling left him with no doubt that he had performed one. But, when his eyes got used to the light again there was the room, unchanged. There were the three Mages, unchanged. There he was, unchanged. 

“That’s enough little one.” Vontosei whispered. Nochete, still clinging to hope that he had done something, wrapped his hand around the finger that had the ring and pulled it close to his body. 

“What did I do? I know I felt it! I know I felt magic.” The adults around him stood, still unmoved and stoic. Nobody said a word and the Mages didn’t make any sort of movement. It was obvious, he hadn’t done it. He hadn’t performed a spec of Magic.

“Nochete.” Jomne whispered from behind. Nochete stood there for a second and felt the burning sensation of tears start to well in his eyes. No! Can’t show them that he was disappointed that he failed or thought something different. He had to show them it was…expected. 

“It’s what I thought.” He blankly said, desperately holding back any hint of tears, something he accomplished with a great bit of effort. Then he removed the ring, set it calmly on the table and retreated out the room. Jomne tried to stop him but thought better of it and instead let his son go. Once in the hall and noticing that nobody was there the tears started coming. It was  obvious, more clear than it ever was, he was magicless. The tears streaked down and wet his fur but through his quiet sobs he kept an ear to the wall to try and hear the adults talking. 

“I’m sorry.” He heard one of them saying. “I could see how badly he wanted it.” 

“Yeah.” His fathers voice replied. 

“Thank you.” A few moments of silence and shuffling. “You know, there’s plenty of things a magicless individual can do, you know? If you’d like i ca…” 

“Thank you for your time.” His father interrupted and the door opened. Nochete quickly rubbed the moisture from his eyes and fur but turned away so that Jomne couldn’t see. For his part Jomne had no idea what to say. Magicless Vulpines weren’t really that uncommon but since Nochete could speak he had looked forward to the day he’d go off to the Ainzou School of Casting.

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The Pointed Devil shook his head and blinked. That was quite the nasty memory, he hadn’t thought of that day in years. As his senses came back and much to his horror Misery sat across from him, that gleam in her eye. He’d seen it before many many times but never directed at him. This was a problem, a major problem. He opened his mouth to speak but he did the unthinkable, he stuttered. 

“I…I…I’m sorry I don’t know what happened.” The words came out without him meaning to, like he was an observer to his own inner workings for a moment. 

“The great Pointed Devil has a name.” She jeered. A sheer moment of terror ran down his spine, had he talked out loud during all that? Did he say more? Did she know what happened? Better take this slow, take a step back and become calculated. He knew he was better when he spoke less, let her hang herself with the knowledge. 

“Nochete.” She said.

It hit him like a sack of bricks, like the many punches he’d gotten over the years all at once. That name, a name he’d forgotten, a name he’d killed, burned, boxed up and tossed in the great Ona Sea. Yet here it was again in the open. 

“How did you…..” He asked sitting up straighter in his chair, he gripped his cane and narrowed his yellow eyes on her. 

“You were gone for a second, like you were lost in thought and then just like that you said Nochete. Now I’m not an expert in Vulprian names so I didn’t know if it was someone you knew but I took a chance and you just confirmed it. Your name, back from the dead, Nochete.” 

Now this was indeed an interesting turn of events. Not only had he slipped up three whole times but Misery had tricked him into confirming a fact. No getting out of it now so play it where it lay. 

“Alright, you got me.” He said regaining his composure and motioning with his hands. “That was good, very very good! But someone was bound to find out.” He said it as a salve to himself really, indeed Nochete really thought he had left everything behind. The life he had before arriving on the shores of Onamen City had been washed away by the grime of the underground, though it could never really truely be scrubbed away he was finding. He knew she was watching him for any further giveaways but there wasn’t anything he’d give up. Her eyes danced up and down watching for anything he may do. 

“It really is, but now the question is where did the Pointed Devil come from? That’s not something one comes up with one day and oh!” A large grin spread on her face as her eyes scanned over him again, a grin Nochete did not care for one bit. They seemed to focus not on him, but on his cane.

“You were in the Civil war weren’t you?” 

He had steeled himself for this potentiality and suppressed the feeling of surprise. He forced his grin back on his face which indeed shook Misery who was expecting another bombshell. 

“The Civil War?” He questioned. “Do I look like someone who fights in wars? I’m the first to say I don’t fight. Bad for business, you know that.” Nochete saw his moment, a flutter in her thoughts. “But you never followed it did you? The amount of times you’ve had to fight your way out, dare I say not professional.” 

“It’s my style!” Misery quickly protested. 

“Ay, but it’s the only one you have. You can pretend to have more, you can think there are other options open to you but it always ends up in fighting with you doesn’t it.” He laid it on thick, the schtick that had made him famous. That smooth, velvety, almost soothing voice that could lull someone to sleep. It was a calculated risk he took, he knew Misery had more than just fighting in her toolkit, but was she aware enough to catch his push? 

“Oh come on Mr. Devil. I’ve got more than that!” She protested quickly and Nochete smiled; got her again, hook line and sinker. 

“What happened with the Tahna sisters?” He asked in a half joking tone. “And Helin. Oh and I heard something happened to an Officer just last week.” 

“He needed a straight fist to the jaw, did him some good.” She immediately retorted and Nochete exhaled some of the stress he was holding. 

“No doubt Misery, no doubt.” He smiled and reached for the alcohol again. “But it still stands that you have much to learn about how things work.” 

Silence filled the room, only sounds of the city seeped through the windows leaving an odd impression in the dual of wits. Misery was seemingly lost in thought, her eyes darting everywhere except on him. This was good; time to push it in the other way. 

“I know why you’re actually here.” Nochete’s smile dissolved and his calculating eyes turned cold, there was no warmth in it. He had been hoping that her reason for coming would have resolved itself or at the very least not be used as ammunition to get the heat off of him but if you’ve got a card sometimes you need to play it. Misery’s face didn’t so much as twitch, she didn’t believe him….at all. That’s ok though, Nochete couldn’t show anything else he mirrored her stoicism. 

“Yeah? Ok, why?” She asked, her voice flat, void of flair. It was serious. Nochete let his words settle in his head before he spoke. He had to say this perfectly, even though he was sure he still wanted to hold the cards. As the seconds passed she gestured towards him attempting to draw out an answer before he was ready, but Nochete didn’t give her the satisfaction. Instead he settled into his chair, grabbed his cane to fiddle with and looked down. 

“You’ve come to kill me.” He let the words escape just as flatly and emotionless as she had. Misery’s eyes widened and something caught in her throat forcing a cough to which she spent a few moments calming. Nochete watched her every moment.

“What in the name of whatever Progenitor you worship has gotten into your head?” Misery sneered, a laugh followed. She waited for him to answer but the Pointed Devil just stared back, face void of any emotion. “Where did you get an idea like that?” She eventually mustered, her face changing to match his. Now that she was taking it a bit more seriously Nochete rolled his head. 

“Well, either way I’m going to find out so you’d better tell me.” Nochete wanted her to say it. 

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“Get ready!” A voice shouted somewhere as a great sense of dread flooded Nochete. What the hell was he doing, how did he end up here? Everything had been a blur, a bizarre foggy nightmare that kept getting worse. His back hugged up against a tree and his tail curled between his legs, not even trying to hide the fact that he was absolutely terrified, though everyone around him had tails between their legs as well. Even though his time at the orphanage hadn’t been good, said nicely, Nochete longed for the breezy room and thin covers. At least it had been some sort of home, some sort of safety where he could hide and plan. Instead here he was, hiding behind a stupid tree about to run into battle for something he couldn’t care the fuck about.

Nochete blinked his yellow eyes to clear the better memories and looked around. Others from the orphanage had been unceremoniously drafted like him. They all had congregated together in the formation, dressed in a laughable attempt at a uniform. Most, Nochete included, had been handed what were basically pointy sticks and told to rush towards the enemy with orders to kill.

“Keep running! Don’t stop!” The voice called again. It came from some sort of military commander, probably his commanding officer or something, Nochete didn’t care, who was walking amongst his terrified troops and giving instructions. “Even if the Vulpine next to you falls, keep running! Now, on my mark!” He stopped, obviously not too comfortable giving a rallying speech and every Vulpine hiding behind the trees stole a peak through them and into the field just beyond the tree line. Nochete could just barely make out figures, glints of the sun reflected off of them meaning they had armor and much more of it than him. 

“Don’t worry Nochete, I’ve got your back.” 

Notchete twitched towards the whisper. He was certainly glad that Iazo was there, it was some comfort at the very least. The half-Canine had taken a liking to him shortly after he had arrived at the orphanage. Nochete originally disliked the attention but he had proven himself to be dependable over the course of this stay and grew to appreciate his company. He returned a nod towards the other Vulpine. 

“Thanks.” He shakily said towards his friend. 

“This battle will probably be nothing compared to that hellhold of a place.” Iazo chuckled, referencing the orphanage they had been plucked from. Nochete had realized long ago that Iazo used laughter to try and dissipate tension but there was no getting around the hold it had on everyone and the chuckle died in his mouth. Then, without so much as a count down the order came. 

“Charge!” 

A howl erupted along the treeline and Vulpines of all sorts started the charge towards the enemy line. Nochete didn’t bother yelling with the others but Iazo did. Nocete squeezed the small spear he held with as much strength as he could, there was nothing he could do but go. It was either certain death in running away or almost certain death in charging forward. So he whirled around the tree and started the steady charge towards the line. 

They had been drilled a few times but they were not fighters much less professional soldiers who knew how to hold their weapons. Yet somehow that basic training was holding and the wide line started pushing forward through the field. Nochete looked both ways, to each side and as far as he could see were others gently jogging and mostly in formation the business ends of their weapons pointed towards the other line. Nochete knew though, he knew that they were a distraction, a smoke screen meant to pull attention away from something else. What it was he didn’t know but to whomever was in charge his life was meant as a distraction and he couldn’t say no. The enemy line grew clearer. Now Nochete could start to hear yells from the other side, most likely their commanding officers shouting orders. 

“Nochete stay by me!” Iazo shouted towards him and it was then it happened. Massive explosions rocked the line. Thunderous booms and cracks reminiscent of lighting echoed across the front. All at once the line froze in their step and everyone started to jostle around frantically searching for what it could be. 

“Mages!” Someone shouted but before Nochete had a chance to process it the ground under him erupted. It was like part of the ground had just decided it wasn’t going to be held down and shot into the air. Then it bucked, the ground actually bucked him like a rider on a feral horse. Immediately after, a deafening crack rippled through Nochete’s ears and an intense heat washed over him. Nochete, along with everyone else, was thrown back and he narrowly avoided crashing into one of the weapons that someone behind him had been carrying. For a fraction of a second relief swept over him, he was on the ground and could still process things! Ok, he’d survived whatever that explosion was, or Release, or something. His ears rang and he felt as though the world were a haze but Notchete was absolutely certain he was alive. 

“Get back up.” He grunted to himself and attempted to pull himself to his feet but something felt wrong. He couldn’t place it exactly just like he was missing something, it was then Nochete looked down and saw his right foot, or rather what was left of it. Strips of flesh and fur were all that were left, maybe a bit of bone but either way his foot was gone and he was doomed. Nochete laid back in the dirt to look at the sky, already darkening from the smoke of fires. Around him screams of individuals in pain lifted into the air, yet there were those who had been behind them that still ran forward but that was in vein as well. The enemy’s front had started orderly marching towards them. They worked with effortless precision, like it was some kind of deadly dance. When encountering an enemy they would form up to create an impenetrable wall and then work together to kill them. True professional soldiers. 

“Nochete!” Iazo’s voice rang out on top of the rest of the din. Nochete couldn’t explain why he heard it so clearly, perhaps it had been because it was a voice he recognized but he did. It called out again and the Vulpine mustered enough strength to sit up and look around. A few paces away he saw Iazo, face stained with blood, crawling towards him. 

“Are you hur…” Iazo didn’t need to finish his question as the leg came into view. He shuffled faster and immediately got to work wrapping some of his shredded pant leg around what was now Nochete’s stump of a foot. Much to Nochete’s surprise the blood that covered Iazo’s face and most of the rest of him didn’t seem to be his. He was moving alright and not injured. 

“Iazo,what are you doing? Get out of here!” Nochete yelled but Iazo kept working and didn’t stop or even acknowledge Nochete until a proper tourniquet, or as best as one could be made, had been set. He then maneuvered to where he was sitting above Nochete, sort of like he were pinning him but it was more to stay low and see if he had any more injuries. 

“No, you’re going to get through this. Just don’t move.” 

“You’re going to die! Leave me and run!” Nocehte demanded.

“What did I tell you! No!” Iazo called back. 

“Why!” Nocehte finally yelled and Iazo chuckled, an earnest one even in the hell that was this war. 

“Because you’d do the same for me.” Iazo smiled again but the smile vanished quickly, the first thought in Nochete’s head was huh? But it was quickly answered when a stream of blood, Iazo’s blood, fell onto Nochete’s chest. Iazo collapsed on top of him, the half-Canine pinning him to the ground. Nochete couldn’t see over his friend but the sound of a sword releasing itself from flesh told Nochete that Iazo had been stabbed in the back and that the owner of the sword either didn’t notice Nochete or didn’t care and moved on. The battle raged but Nochete was helpless, pinned under the corpse of a friend, forced to look into his dead eyes. It was then Nochete answered. 

“No, I wouldn’t.” 

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The room had grown quiet. All other distractions had dissolved into the background as Nochete fell into his mind, scenes from those terrible times filling it. He felt the blood from his friend spilling onto his chest again, those eyes drilling into him with no thoughts behind them. Misery had triggered some old memories but it was ok, it's how he was born. He just couldn’t show them as a weakness, any sort of crack she would find and pry open much like he would. 

“Why would I want to kill you Nochete.” She asked, a slight trill of her tongue accented the end of his name in a way that he found profoundly annoying. 

“There’s a list about as long as the charter of the city of people I’m sure want me dead, few heads of state, few assassins I’ve…” he paused, “done business with. No shortage of people. What better way to get close to me than by my very own protege!” The silence filled the room again and their eyes crossed as if they were swords in combat trying to one up each other. Misery threw up her arms and let a smile eek out on her face and with a shrug she sighed. 

“Fine, you got me. Yeah I took a contract to kill you.” She said as if she was admitting she had forgotten something at the market. Nocehte couldn’t help but laugh and he slammed his cane on the floor. 

“Well would you look at that! Knew you’d be here eventually, would have given it a few more years myself but what can ya do.” The smile crept across his face to match hers and his entire body seemed filled with, oddly enough, joy. This did strike Misery as very odd but Nochete was interested more in who had decided to finally try it this way. Attempts on his life were not uncommon and he was in the business of keeping tabs on potential people of interest. He had never lost sight of Misery. “But now don’t you feel better?” He asked. And as though the cloud that had filled the room evaporated Misery felt herself breathe. 

“Shuddup.” She grunted and Nochete twitched his ears and nodded towards her with raised eyebrows. She averted his gaze but eventually couldn’t deny it was better it was out in the open. It dawned on her that thinking she could have done it without him knowing had been but an aimless fantasy. The Pointed Devil knew what drink you’d order at the tavern before you even had left your house, of course he’d realize an assassination attempt right in front of him. 

“There we go! Now…..how.” He made several gestures with his right hand and clicked his claws together. “Oh I have ideas but I wonder if you’ll say.” Truth be told Nochete knew exactly what Misery had planned and he was sorely disappointed, an obvious thing like that? But again, because it was so obvious she might have thought he’d overlook it. Misery mirrored drumming her fingers on the table, her Esurian hands making a dull thud verses the satisfying clicks of his claws. 

“Like this.” She said and shot up. Her right hand reached into the folds of her clothes and she produced a weapon, of new design, and directed it right at Nocehte who in the commotion had not even so much as twitched. 

“Really Misery?” Nochete whined. “A firearm? Come on?” He couldn’t even attempt to hide his disappointment. Even though it was not her original plan the backup was even worse! Where was the fun? Where was the intrigue? “Always ends with a fight.” He muttered. 

“Oh stop and get off your high horse Mister Devil. This is something you can’t weasel your way out of. A gun pointed right at your head.” The firearm in question was a fairly new invention out of smaller countries to the west. They had hit the scene only a few years ago and were still incredibly expensive and beyond the reach of most but the best connected individuals. Even so, the one that Misery held was meant as an assassin tool and had, to Nochetes knowledge, a certain reputation. Though, was it possible that Misery didn’t know? 

“I can’t?” He responded and even shimmied a bit. “Don’t you mean I can’t Fox my way out of it?” Even Misery felt herself blink twice at the word, she’d never even heard another Vulpine use Fox. It was one of the most derogatory words someone could use towards a beast, use their feral names. Misery shook her head and redirected the aim of the small firearm towards Nochete’s head. 

“I’m not moving.” She said only to be met with a chuckle from Nochete. He casually stood, calmly walked over to the bar and read through the labels mumbling to himself. 

“The way I see it…” he said between mumbles, “if you really aren’t moving and going to do it. Might as well enjoy a real good drink. None of the crap that I had set up.” Misery let her finger fall off the trigger. After a few more moments of mumbling he finally perked up and drew out a deep red bottle. 

“Wine from Kaugrush, along with Wolfback ridge. Always was privy to it myself, those Canines are really able to make wine that punches you in the muzz.” He picked up two glasses and once again casually made his way back to the table. In a smooth motion he sliced the wax seal with his claws, removed the cork and poured the blood red liquid into the glass. Misery watched his every move, the firearm still directed at his head but as he drew the glass to his lips and made a sip she let it down. 

“Why are you the way you are?” She grunted exasperated at the calmness of the Vulpine. 

“Experience my dear Misery. Experience.” 

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“You’ve got ten seconds before I torch your tail to the nether.” The voice had grown more gravely the longer the conversation had gone on. For his part the Vulpine Mage did seem quite imposing. His pure white coloring and blue eyes did strike a stark cleaness in the dirty streets and shacks on the outskirts of Adiumour, Nochete certainly commended him for being able to keep his fur so bright. He also wore the cloak of a Mage, or was it Magus, Nocehte really couldn’t be bothered to remember the difference as it wasn’t important, all that really mattered was that there was a fairly decent chance that he wasn’t bluffing in his threat. 

“You’d do that to a veteran of the war?” Nochete put on a face and pouted but it didn’t seem to phase the Mage so he did the next thing up his sleeve, or rather, pantleg. He presented his right leg and pulled up the smart slacks he was wearing. The Mage visibly flinched once he saw that Nochete’s entire right foot was missing, replaced by an approximation of one made out of a dark colored wood. “A wounded veteran at that?” The Mage hesitated. Now, Nochete would never tell him that he was a veteran of the losing side or that he never wanted to be part of it in the first place but they certainly didn’t need to know that. He rested his foot back onto the ground and leaned into the cane he’d taken to carrying around. 

“What do you want?” The Mage growled. Nochete shifted his weight to his good foot, twirled his cane and tapped it twice. 

“I want you and your little gang to leave me alone.” Notchete twiddled his fingers towards the others who were watching the confrontation. The words had taken the Mage by surprise and his face twisted before a roar of a laugh erupted from him. 

“You’re telling me that you’re the Fallen Mage? You can’t be serious.” The rest of his little posse was beginning to chuckle as well but Nochete never let the smile he resumed after his request go and instead waited for them to get it out of their system. “How did this guy even get here?” He turned to the others around them and they all took turns glancing at each other as if saying, did you do it To each other. But no real answer came and the Mage turned his attention back to Nochete. 

“Like I said, get out of here before you find yourself as a pile of ash.” He waved his hand and started turning away from Nochete but he still stood there, his colorful attire clashing dramatically with the dullness that was the room. 

“So you’re not going to leave me alone?” Nochete asked as nonchalantly as he possibly could. 

“You’re not that stupid named Fox!” The Mage belted, clearly Nocehte had made an impression through his meddling, so much so that this Mage couldn’t see the forest for the trees. 

“You think it’s stupid? Ah damn, spent alot of time on that one.” 

“What?” 

“Oh, sorry, nothing. Well, guess the Anzou Grandmaster probably wants to know how far his own Apprentice has fallen.” The noise fell away and the Mage’s hands started to tremble, a snarl started forming on his muzzle but it gave way to some chanting. Nochete quickly held up a finger to distract the Mage. “Nope, can’t have that!” The Mage immediately stopped and Nochete smirked. 

“Fuck’n hell! You are him.” The Mage gaped, realizing the trap he’d fallen into. 

“I told you! Gosh, people never believe me. I tell them straight up but they never get it. Right, now.” Nochete reset himself quite pleased with how he had interrupted the Mage’s release. “So please, will you leave me alone?” 

“How stupid are you? You walk right up to me, ask me to leave you alone and tell me what you know? I thought I’d seen it all.

“I just hate fighting, its messy and to tell the truth I’m actually pretty bad at it.” Nochete sneered but still said with full sincerity. “So I thought I could appeal to you Vulpine to Vulpine, ya know?” The question hung in the air for a moment while the Mage attempted to rationalize what he had just heard. Vulpine to Vulpine? What kind of stupidity was that? He barked a laugh and was about to start chanting for his Fire Release when Nochete calmly sat on the floor and reached for his fake foot, casually unstrapping it leaving just the stump. The Mage couldn’t even muster the question to ask what was going on, same for the others before Nochete called out at the top of his lungs. 

“Help! They’re going to kill me!” He had added some fake tears in for good measure. Then, without warning the door flew open. The Mage attempted to divert his attention and in turn Release towards whomever had decided now was a good time to barge in but when he tried to speak the words to gather Magic nothing came out. In fact, he couldn’t say anything! The room had grown strangely quiet as the voices of everyone, except Nochete of course, had been taken. All attention was directed at the door where an imposing figure stood, he was blocking the light so it made it difficult to make out exactly but Nochete knew exactly who it was, having led them there through a series of anonymous communications. The Grandmaster of the Anzou School of Casting, no one else in all of Louror had the ability to take away the voices of multiple people like that. He continued to writhe on the floor as if he had been attacked as the Grandmaster stepped into the room. 

“Einzi!” The Grandmasters voice billowed, filling the room with sound even though the voice who spoke it was quite soft. The presence he had was nothing short of incredible. The Mage dropped to his knees in apology, unable to speak still, though it’d probably be a few hours before his voice returned. 

“Einzi, what have you done?” The Grandmaster sighed and then turned his attention to Nochete who was still pretending like they had injured him, a poor footless veteran. Nochete dulled the performance a bit and sat up gripping his stomach. 

“They were right about to finish me off. Thank you uh, sir.” Nochete said in his best voice. He looked right into the Grandmasters eyes and suddenly realized he knew who it was. He’d met this Vulpine before. 

“Happy to be of service.” He said before returning his attention to the four or so wordless Vulpines all in different stages of terror at the loss of their voice. “This is quite the mess though, how does one like you find yourself in this situation.” Nochete let a nervous chuckle leave his muzzle and added a bit of breathiness to it to sell the idea he’d been kicked in the stomach. 

“Gambling is a hell of a thing.” He said nervously. It was then Nochete saw what was the most dangerous thing to his life since those explosions on the battlefield in the Grandmasters eyes, the look of knowing. It was a flash but Nochete knew it when he saw it, he’d just been recognized. He moved quickly. 

“I appreciate the kindness sir” he said and then snatched his cane, made sure his wooden foot was still hidden in his overcoat and turned towards the door, using the cane as his second foot. 

“Gambling, brings out the devil in anyone.” The Grandmaster said but Nochete wasn’t going to stop, he didn’t want to even entertain the thought that what he saw hadn’t been accurate. He knew it for sure. Grandmaster Vontosei had recognized him. Once he had hobbled a good distance Nochete ducked behind some garbage and fitted his foot back on. While he did though his mind raced, one thing was for certain though Louror was not safe, the entire island was growing smaller by the day and the longer he spent here the more probable it was that someone would recognize him, he was fairly positive that he was not the only survivor of the orphanage. Still, he did take a moment to relish in the fact he’d brought down one of the more notorious underground organizations within Audimour but his fantasies about stepping into that role had to wait. He had to leave Louror. 

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Misery stood still as Nochete sipped his drink, his eyes watching her as if saying are you going to do it already? But Misery didn’t raise the firearm again and instead moved back towards the table to sit down, a move she secretly hoped would surprise the Vulpine but was disappointed when he didn’t show any significant reaction to it. Why should she have expected any different? 

“Good thing too.” He said with a smirk. 

“What?” 

“That firearm, Imported from Magnalia Crown?” He asked, his voice flat. Misery didn’t respond but the silence was confirmation enough. “Thought so. Like I said, good thing you didn’t fire it.” Now Misery really was growing a little tired of his game and rolled her eyes in protest. 

“Oh what now?” Her voice full of ironic posture. 

“They’ve got a nasty habit of exploding in the users face. Almost bit it myself a while back using one, the dealer wanted to show me how to use it but I wanted to fire it right away. He insisted and then it backfired on him, took the guys nose clean off. Since then I’ve heard here and there of failed-” he paused and centered back on his drink taking another sip of the deep red liquid, “assassination attempts.” 

This was news to Misery who had only just picked up the weapon recently she drew it out and looked at it again, it’s smooth metal barrel and brightly shined wooden casing hiding a dark secret. 

“Oh, uh thanks I guess.” She said reservedly but quickly snapped back to attention in case the Pointed Devil tried anything but nope, he didn’t. Instead he was still sitting there, possibly content that he had thwarted her plan, well it wasn’t exactly thwarted but certainly put enough of a second guess within her heart not to pull the trigger. But, that was only the backup, there was still plan A and it had gone surprisingly all according to plan. A sinister smile crept across her face. Nochete certainly clocked it and instead of his normal smirk he winked. That was kind of odd. Then it happened. One of his ears twitched and he blinked a few times in quick succession, his hand, holding the glass of wine, froze and the glass fell to the ground shattering into a million pieces. His breathing grew quick and frantic, chest frantically convulsing trying to pull in enough air! A gurgling noise echoed from his mouth and he grabbed his throat before glancing at the bottle then to Misery who held the sinister smile. Then he fell out of the chair to the ground and stopped moving. 

“So you’re not as smart as you thought you were.” Misery sighed and stood. “Thanks again for the tip about the gun, I’ll be sure to avoid using it. Funny thing too, me using that might have well saved your life.” With her job done Misery would normally flee the scene as quick as she could but she did stop and look at the body for a second, after all he was the person that trained her in almost everything she knew about the underground. But with a slight nod of respect she turned and made way towards the door. Right as soon as she reached it a cackle of laughter filled the room and Misery froze. Her hair stood on the back of her neck and heart nearly jumped out of her chest and out of the room. The laugh was happy, like someone had played a joke on a friend, she slowly turned her head to find Nochete in the midst of a laughing fit on the ground, trying to wipe tears from his eyes. 

“You have no idea how hard it was to keep like that for even just a few minutes.” He croaked between laughs. “Do you always spend that long staring at the person you killed? Kind of weird Misery.” Nochete eventually regained control of his laugh and got to his feet, Misery still too stunned to move a muscle, and grabbed the bottle of wine by the neck and took a large swig of it. 

“I do have to say, poisoning my favorite wine by paying off my supplier is a half decent plan that might have worked on someone, err, lessor. But come on, I’m the Pointed Devil!” He extended his hands to his sides and shrugged. “You seriously believe that I wouldn’t notice?” Misery still stood transfixed, almost in a daze as Nochete righted his chair and sat back down, not even phased by the whole thing. Her mind raced and landed on one thing, she reached for her firearm again but Nochete held up a finger. 

“Do you want to risk it?” He asked, his sly smile and voice gushing with velvet flair. Misery hesitated, hands shaking before taking a step back towards the door. “Yeah, I didn't think so.” Then his voice changed to what could only be described as, chipper. “So next time let's get lunch!” He said with a wide grin. Misery, who still couldn’t even speak nodded and left the room, unable to even process anything but how the Pointed Devil had won…again.